Inconsequential Circumstances
by SoulfulSongBird
Summary: One night, Rosalie discovered, a face she'd never forget. Too bad the girl she couldn't get out of her mind had been there patiently waiting, for years. The story of how a series of dreams, unimaginable circumstances, and a whole lot of revelations can change your life forever. AH AU Rose/ Bella fic. Slow Burn. Be prepared.
1. Prologue

**Blame Fanfiction, they pulled my story for no good reason.**

 **This is a re-release of a story I've been working on. A few details changed so you may want to restart. Also note that now that my laptop is fully functional again, chapters a significantly longer and more detailed than before, for the most part. Currently, Chapters 1-10 will be up today, with 11-14 and possibly 15 following by Tuesday. Glimpse and Finding Home will be updated by 7/19/18 at 10:00 pm CST so be on the look out for those as well…without any further ado, happy reading lovelies.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight characters. I am not Stephanie Meyer or your faves probably wouldn't be shipped together. I do own the plot and OOC stuff though. If you wanna play with my characters cool just, you know, get permission first!**

Chapter One: Prologue

The building before me held an ominous kind of quiet, despite the billowing flames that consumed it. It was an eerie silence to that was incredibly off putting. It seemed strange to see a place, that was probably once overflowing with the sounds of lives lived within those walls, halted in its tracks and burned at the stake. The sudden realization of just how bad it would be inside the, now collapsing, building shook me to my core. A sense of foreboding panic overtook me, and I looked over to my partner to gauge her reaction. Without saying a word, we both knew this would be a bad one. I could read the sadness in her expression, just as I'm sure she could see the worry in mine. We knew we could stand to lose our lives saving those that remained inside. Then, just like fools, we rushed in. It was our livelihood, our duty, our purpose after all. To save as many as we could and to put out the fire that was now consuming this once magnificent building.

It seemed the more people we got out of the building, the more there were to still be saved. Their bodies ranged in damage, but I never quite made out the details of their faces. These were people's family members, and yet I couldn't find any unique detail about one of them. My own mind had long since given over to all too familiar haze that made it possible for me to do my job well. I could not allow emotion to cloud my best judgement. It was imperative that I maintained control over the despair that threatened to consume me over the lives destroyed by this fire. Right now, my only focus was to get us all out alive. I could not allow myself to lose sight of my purpose.

Over the sounds of the roaring flames, nothing could be heard as I carried the last charred soul out to safety with agony on her lips. I'd found her trapped in what once appeared to be a bedroom, fire surrounding her on all fronts. Pieces of the ceiling above, had now begun falling in around her. There was no escape for her. I rushed in and lifted her as quickly as I could. I could hear the remainder of the ceiling bowing and creaking. I knew we were running out of time, and fast. My suit took a hit, to say the least, but we made it out of the bedroom, then the apartment. She screamed and thrashed, as the sounds of her pain reached me through my mental haze. I could see her flesh melting off in some places. In others, the skin was damaged beyond repair, and I knew she would have a long road ahead.

My body grew tired, but my resolve remained steadfast. I don't remember the route taken or how I'd gotten out. But, I remember when the all clear was given. As I loaded that girl into the back of an ambulance, I noticed her face. Then, for the first time, I could tell that beneath all the burns that mangled her face and arms, she had once been incredibly beautiful.

 _She still was very beautiful._

In my head, I considered who this woman could be. I thought about the fact that when she woke up that morning, she had no idea her day would end this way. I thought about how she probably had come home from work and gone about her nightly routine with no worries of anything like this happening. I thought about how she survived the fire, yet still had so much more surviving to do in the coming days.

My only other thought, as the ambulance rolled away, was that she must have been an angel…and I didn't even know her name.


	2. Chapter One

**AN: Thanks for the review, favs, and follows. Upcoming chapters will be longer. Also, expect this to be a long fic with slow burn. Nothing worth having should be rushed. Since I'm currently on bedrest, expect frequent updates as well since writing eases my mind. Someone also reached out about me taking over a few Rose/Bella fics. So, if this goes well, expect more fics soon. Happy reading!**

 **-SoulfulSongbird**

Chapter 1: Hellish Algorithms

BPOV

There was a saying from somewhere, by some old guy, that said something about things being given and taken away. Whoever the hell he was, I was starting to believe he might have been on to a revolutionary idea.

Since I was five years old, I had only one constant through every phase of my life. In preschool, puberty, and even pre-law she was there. At first, my parents shrugged it off. I can only guess they believed her to be nothing more than an imaginary friend. At night, flashes of this girl with the golden colored hair came to me in my dreams. In the beginning, there were no words. There were, instead, just flashes of stolen moments. I saw when she learned to ride a bike, her first day of school, and those incredibly heinous braces that lasted all through middle school.

The more dreams I had, the more I learned. But every night, it was the same girl. Rosalie Lillian Hale. Her dad called her his Rose and, truthfully, she was as beautiful as one. Once, I even considered her to be my soulmate. After all, how could my own imagination not create the perfect woman for me? But, I was wrong.

She never came. She never showed up for me and my life was ten times harder because of it. Where they had once considered it to be the youthful imaginings of a little girl, as I grew older and continued to wax on about the perfection of Rosalie, my parents grew tired and frustrated. Well, my father did, at least. He was a practical man by default. He thrived in situations with concrete facts. Rosalie situation was not something that was easy for him to understand. Overnight, I went from being daddy's little girl to being a thorn in his side.

My mother had always been slightly eccentric and much more spiritual than my father. Renee believed nearly anything was possible, because in a lot of was she held on to her innocence. It served her well now, as a preschool teacher and it was one of the things that drew us closer. I did not agree with everything she believed. But, I knew she did believe in the things only children had enough imagination to dare ponder. She didn't question the possibility of my dreams, rather she accepted them as fact.

The tension between my father and I was high all throughout my teenage years, until he spoke to my mom about having me committed to a psychiatric hospital, fearing that I was possibly schizophrenic. I could see the worry in his eyes, so I didn't push it. I knew he was reacting on what he saw, based on what he understood to be plausible. Still, it hurt to know that my own father could believe that about me. Over time, I just stopped spending time with him, resulting in our now strained relationship. When I did have to see him, I made sure to steer clear of anything pertaining to Rosalie.

Life got hectic after high school, and even though Rosalie still appeared in my dreams every night, I spent less and less time thinking of her during the day. So much so, I began to think of her as just a noise in the background. I knew she was there. But, as time went on, I was able to ignore thoughts of her less and less. The urge to find her, by the time I was legally able to, had died down. The more the years passed, the less inclined I was to do so. I was okay with her just being there every night when I closed my eyes. I had made my peace with that reality once already, and now I was being forced to do so again because she wasn't just in my head.

 _Rosalie Hale was real. She was in my apartment. She saved me from the fire._

I had been chanting that to my phrase since my arrival at the hospital and it didn't seem to make any sense to me. I knew what I saw. I knew what I felt when I saw her face. I knew that my heart nearly stopped beating at the thought that she was the one to carry me out of my home as it burned away, taking with it everything I worked for. I knew all these things to be fact, but it just wasn't adding up.

Personally, I considered myself to be a logical human being. I made my living on being a methodical, rational person, even with my dysfunctional brain. That's why I can say with absolute certainty that it is mathematically impossible for the events of the past twenty-four hours to have occurred. Yet, they somehow had. The searing pain of what was once my skin burning, and later, being peeled off like a bandage was still fresh in my mind and cemented the fact that it had indeed happened.

What made me most hesitant to accept this seemingly undeniable truth was that I should have seen it. I should have known this was coming. But, who really wants to predict their own almost death? Could I even call them predictions? I don't know. However, it was this solitary thought that occupied my mind while I endured the constant agony that threatened to pull me into a sweet, dreamless abyss.

Subconsciously and physically, my body was in shock. I knew that. I was trapped in the fire still. Every inch of flesh that remained on my body seemed to have engulfed the flames and projected that terrible sensation throughout my nervous system. In its wake, it left nothing more than an indescribable sense of panic and adrenaline. Just like in the fire, I could not move. My lungs rattled inside my chest as I willed myself to breathe. All thoughts of the world around me were gone. There were no nurses, doctors, and awful machines anymore. There was only me and the fire that consumed my body, leaving only muscle and tissue where flesh should have been. And smoke. Smoke that seemed to blanket me, like the everlasting comfort of my mother's arms, as ash and debris from the upper floors crashed around me.

If asked later, I will surely deny it. You know, when they talk of my miraculous survival. People will wonder if I ever wished for death. The only accepted response will be no, and I shall give it. But, when I laid there in my bed burning alive, I did wish for death. I wished for an ending to my pain. I prayed for it more than I've ever prayed for anything.

And then, she came to save us, to save me. Damn Rosalie!

Naturally that infuriating woman would show up, at the one moment that I wished she was miles away. I couldn't have planned that any worse. There was a plethora of other moments she could have chosen to make her existence more than just a figment of my imagination. But no, she chose the moment I've given up to want to be a savior. That's so like her, always wanting to be the hero. It's just too damn bad I never asked for one.

Restlessly, I lay waiting as the sounds of the world outside my mind slowly filtered in. The light streaking in through the blinds of my window seemed to come in at an angle that left one side of my body hot, while the other side shook from the chill in the room. Sounds from the nurse's station came in next, as the plexiglass door to my room slid open.

In walked my mother, continuing her bedside vigil as if she was waiting for me to say anything promising. I suppose, in a way, she was. I hadn't spoken a word since I arrived here. Truthfully, I wasn't entirely sure I could talk. Had it not been for the news, I would probably still be Jane Doe. So, it was safe to assume that my mother was hoping against hope. In fact, there was only one person I wanted to talk to and she was nowhere to be found.

They keep saying I'm lucky. That this could have been much worse. As far as I'm concerned, that's a load of shit. You know who says that? The lucky people and literally no one else. Everyone else knows how sucky the world is and can tell you exactly what a cosmic "fuck you" feels like. So, excuse me, if I think that being randomly selected not to die is bullshit, right now. All I know is whether I walk out of this hospital or not, Rosalie Hale is going down.


	3. Chapter Two

**AN: Hello lovelies! I know it's been a few days, but I was waiting. Since I had to be on the road all day today, I did all my editing and writing for the next THREE chapters while laying in the back seat of my car. Officially, I can say, you all can expect an update every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday from now on. Again, thanks for all your reviews, follows, and favs. It really makes my day.** **Until next time, happy reading**!

 **SoulfulSongbird**

Chapter Two: Celebrations and Conundrums

"Rosalie Hale, you have ten seconds to get over here and hug your mother, before I strangle you! Where have you been?!" the older woman yelled, her Southern accent coming through even after living in California for years.

Mary-Katherine Hale was...honestly, it was hard to put into words the kind of woman she was. Physically, she was a full figured, stout woman. Over the years, her hair had taken on a more silver grey where her natural pale blond highlights used to be. Everyone always said I had her eyes, and I guess that's true. The beautiful blue shade fit her face. I could only dream genetics worked this well, in my favor, as I grew older. Socially, however, she was both soft and loving to those who knew her, and tough as nails to those who crossed her. She was an enigma. Upbringing taught her how to be a lady, but experience taught her not to give a shit. It was these valuable lessons, that she later imparted in me.

"Sorry Mom, I just been busy with work." I responded, dodging her wooden spoon that threatened to swat me.

It killed me to see her so torn up about my recent absence from Sunday dinner last week. I knew she worried endlessly about me, but it truly couldn't be helped. Work kept me up until early morning Sunday, and by the time I made it home food was the furthest thing from my mind. I was exhausted after the Willows fire, with just enough energy to drive home and remove my shoes. I didn't make it any further than my couch. I woke up that evening with my face buried in a throw pillow, still dressed in my street clothes.

Taking up my usual spot at the kitchen table, I watched as my mother moved around the kitchen. Judging from the amount of food covering all the surfaces, it was a safe bet she had been going at for quite some time already. Picking up the peeler, I decided to get to work on the potatoes.

"Well, your father should be back directly. He went to get your aunt and uncle from the airport," she said and I inwardly groaned just a little.

My Aunt Esme and Uncle Carlisle were nice enough. They let me spend summers with them in South Carolina when I was younger and always brought me cool presents at Christmas, so honestly, I couldn't complain about them. Their daughter, Alice, on the other hand, really made me want to pull out my hair. Growing up, Alice and I were two peas in a pod. So much so, that she moved out to California for college and I'd been graciously sharing my parents with her ever since. But, all good things must come to an end, and the day she announced her engagement was that end for us.

For the past four months, Alice had been driving me absolutely batshit over every little detail. I mean don't get me wrong. I am extremely happy for her. However, that didn't mean I wanted to make a special trip to Atlanta just to be fitted for a bridesmaid's dress by her idol. Simply put, Alice had lost her mind. It also didn't help that her fiancé, Jasper, was deployed. There was nothing worse than an Alice with a bunch of extra time on her hands.

Admittedly, I considered leaving before she showed up. The only downside to that genius plan being that the birthday girl can't miss her own celebration. Mentally, I began a mantra I would need for the remainder of the day.

 _You only turn twenty-eight once._

The rest of the day was spent in the presence of my family and closest friends. Tanya and the guys from the firehouse showed up too. I suspect that had more to do with my mom's cooking than anything else. They'd been pestering her for months to make a chicken salad and they had finally gotten their wish. We all ate until we needed to sleep it off and drank maybe just a little too much. Aunt Esme made my favorite Red Velvet cake for dessert so, naturally, I stowed away a few pieces for later. My dad lost a couple of hands of Texas Hold'em to my superior skills, and by the end of the night I was $300.00 richer. Overall, it was a good birthday.

Later as I lay in my bed, my little house was nearly silent, except for the chime of my dryer signaling the end of its cycle. I had taken the time to clean and prepare for the week ahead, yet nothing proved effective at stopping the nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I had been trying, over the last week, to forget about that woman from the fire. Yet, every time I closed my eyes, she was there.

I knew I could go looking for her. However, that knowledge was as far as I got. The last thing I wanted was to be a crazy stalker. I didn't know a thing about that woman. I knew nothing more than the facts of the fire, and the look in her eyes as I helped load her into the ambulance. During her constant stream of screams and groans, her piercing stare never left me. In the moment, I'd never noticed the discontent written clearly on her face. In my thoughts though, I seemed doomed to be subjected to it forever. With no more memories of this woman to replace it with, I was stuck being the target of what can only be described as hate.

My Grandma Jane used to say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Now, I had no idea what I did to piss this woman off, but she looked like she was ready for war. At first, I could barely stop staring at her long enough to realize she was glaring back. I imagine, if she could have moved her arms, they'd be folded across her chest, like the true picture of child-like defiance she was. Nevertheless, she did just fine pinning me with her glare alone. It made me feel, raw like her eyes were burning through me. It was like I was both her saving grace and her worse nightmare. The feeling that engulfed me squared off against as if I were behind enemy lines, and yet welcomed me in like home after a long day, all at the same time. It was like being pissed off at a ghost for saying boo. You could do it, but you'd look like an idiot. The coward in me was happy when she managed a sneer. It gave me an excuse to look away, but also it comforted me to know that she had enough anger to piss her off. Anger meant the will to fight hadn't left her yet. She would need that fight over the coming weeks and months if she hoped to recover and I for one hoped she did.

Logically, no matter how comforted I was, I took that glare as a very real warning to stay the hell away from her. I didn't need that kind of drama in my life. I had enough of my own to deal with, between preparing for Alice's wedding and trying to keep my personal life and work life separate, despite Tanya's insistence that there would be no pressure. Still, my mind pondered this mystery woman with a kind of endless determination, which I vehemently ignored most of the time. But, when I lay here, in the quiet darkness of my room, my mind did wander. In those times, one thought overleaped all the rest.

 _Why does she seem so familiar?_

I'd never met her, and yet it felt like I knew her. I had no name to go on and no one I associated with seemed to be in hysterics over the fire. Maybe I'd passed by her in a grocery store or something. But, it didn't feel that way. The deja vü feeling nagged at my brain, as it had every night since that fire, until I couldn't keep my eyes open any more. I knew that tomorrow I'd wake up from yet another night of dreamless sleep more exhausted than I was before, I'd go through the day as I always did. Then tomorrow night, thoughts of her, would be waiting for me again.

 _Happy Birthday, to me!_


	4. Chapter Three

**Hello lovelies! This is the second of the three updates I worked on recently. Time was a bit shifty for me. But timing should be appropriately adjusted for now, so that you will receive updates by my self-imposed deadline of 10pm CST. Special thanks to my sister on that for keeping my brain alert. Now, I have a few reviews and messages that need answers. So be looking out for those. As always, thanks for the continued support and happy reading!**

 **SoulfulSongBird**

Chapter Three: Staying the Course

BPOV

Twenty-nine days, seven hours, thirty minutes, and fifteen seconds.

They had kept me here damn near a month already. I was going to throw a party, but I forgot to be grateful last night when my arms itched so bad they burned. It seemed almost counterproductive to waste time doing so when I looked like a patchwork quilt of human flesh. My skin graft scars were still fresh and covered my hands, arms, and face.

My mother keeps trying to pedal me bullshit about how I'm beautiful like she wasn't the one concerned about how normal I'd look after the fact. What the fuck was normal anyway? Now I must go live with Molly Sunshine, herself. Yay.

I know it sounds morbid, but I wish I had died. No, this is not me being suicidal. This me stating a fact. The fact is, I am Isabella Swan, the attorney tracked to make partner by 30. I was reasonably confident and attractive. I lived comfortably, and for the most part living my daily life required no additional effort or accommodations. That was my normal. That was my routine, my comfort. But, my life was not the same anymore. Now, I thought of my apartment and my heartbeat soared. I couldn't bear to look at my own reflection, and my head was all fucked up. I caught myself jumping at the sound of a book falling off the nurse's station desk yesterday. How pathetic is that? On top of that, I missed so much work, it would take months to catch up. What's the worst though? The nightmares.

I can't sleep without going back to that infernal fire. Every time, I close my eyes it's all I see. I get sucked in and it feels so real. Rationally, I should be able to just tell myself it's all a bad dream. The issue with that is that rationale flies out the window, and the only thing left in its wake is an impending sense of hopelessness and fear. I try to run, but I can't move. I try to scream, but no one hears me. So, instead, I'm stuck reliving that same moment over and over. In my nightmares, time is both fast and slow. I see the damage being done all around me and it looks as though the fire is rapidly advancing. But, somehow when it reaches me, the fire takes it's time consuming me.

The flames feel renewed and as vengeful as a forgotten mistress for my having escaped them. They caress the planes of my body as if looking for a loose thread to unravel every fiber of my being. They threaten to end my life every night and, I'm ashamed to say, in those moments I wish for death more than I've ever hoped for a long life. Death in those times seems to be a blissful reprieve.

Yet, every night, I wake screaming, drenched in my own sweat. My mouth dries out quickly, however, sending me into a coughing binge. I swear, even now, I can feel my lungs rattling in my chest. Then, every morning, I feel ten thousand times more tired than the day before. It's like my whole body is beyond the point of no return.

Every morning is brought in with talks of the fire. My parents, doctors, nurses, my parent's friends, and even coworkers who were brave enough to stop by and show their faces have no shortage of questions, concerns, and stupid sayings that I suppose should make me feel better. Really, it all just feels like salt in my wounds. None of them understand what this feels like and I hope they never do. My mother always relays the details of that night, as if she knew anything more than what she'd been told, by everyone but me. Of course, she dashes in enough sorrow and wonder to make it all seem like more of a soap opera scene than my real life. Renee always did have a flair for the dramatic.

I, however, wanted no part in the retelling of the events that led me here, so I was content to let her prattle on to her heart's content. It gave her something to do rather than fret over me and gave them something else to focus on besides me laying there, looking nothing like the woman they once knew. I found that even Mike who once found me incredibly beautiful, or at the very least enough to have sex with without having to explain that decision to his friends, couldn't even stand to look at me. Part of me was okay with that, since I couldn't bare to look at me either. But, a larger more vain part of me that I had no idea even existed, took this as a personal failing and mourned the loss of my obsessive admirer.

The whole Mike thing probably shouldn't hurt as much as it does. In fact, I had waited years to be rid of his unwanted gaze. Still, that larger part of me craves his attention. I know he's a despicable person, I understand that more than most, being intimately familiar with how the way he looked at me made my skin crawl. I guess I only wanted the attention as peace of mind. I needed him to validate that I'm still the same woman. I need him to feel like nothing has changed. I want to feel like things will be the same, like I still have some sort of value, even if it's not necessarily the kind of value I wish to be known for. I wanted to feel desirable again.

But, I look at me and all I see is aftermath. My body was nothing more than the remainder of what the fire had for breakfast. How is anybody supposed to want that? How am I supposed to love that? It's not about vanity. Still, despite that, my inner self feels broken enough all on its own. Why should my outer self, look like l feel? Don't I deserve to at least see some of me, still lingering here? Don't I deserve to feel pretty? I ask myself that every day; and every day, I receive no answer that appeases me.

Logic tells me life isn't fair and I deserve nothing more than a chance to live it. My anger tells me to be pissed at what was taken from me. My body protests against me and it is in these times, I wonder "who am I"? I can honestly say I dont know. But, the woman in the mirror, she isn't me.


	5. Chapter Four

**Hi lovelies! It's my last update for the week. Hopefully, it reaches you all in good spirits. What are your weekend plans? I'm having a checkup today so that'll be fun. After that, napping. I hope you enjoyed the last chapter. As always, happy reading!**

Chapter Four: Doomsday Uber

RPOV

 _Six months later_

"I'm going to kill her," I said, as I looked at the alarm clock blaring on the bedside table next to me.

Swinging my legs over to the side of the bed, I forced myself to get out of it even though I was not inclined to do so. Looking over at the other bed in the room, I saw my mother and aunt with the same disgruntled looks on their faces. Jasper's sister, Charlotte, hadn't budged from her spot on the sofa bed which didn't surprise me at all. What human in their right mind would choose to be up at this ungodly hour?

Judging from the sound of the Mariah Carey playlist and the smell of her vanilla shampoo coming from the bathroom, Alice was that human. Finally, her wedding day had arrived, and the Bridezilla was overjoyed. The rest of us, however, were overworked, underpaid, and tired. I spoke for all of us when I said tonight would be the best sleep of our lives. But first, we had to make it through the day.

The next few hours were spent getting primped, polished, and pushed up in every way. I wasn't ashamed to say I cleaned up pretty well. Although, I can admit it was a little jarring to see myself all done up and in clothes that weren't covered by a thin layer of soot. More than once we had to watch as Alice had her makeup reapplied. First, she cried tears of joy, then shock, then panic. Cold feet took hold firmly at about noon. She assured us it was just nerves and we didn't question it. Alice and Jasper were just meant to be. Everyone knows that.

They were in that sickly-sweet kind of love, the one you can see in their eyes when they look at each other. There's was the kind of love Relationship Goals were inspired by, even when they argued. Jasper was content to let Alice run the show, and that's what she liked best. Plus, Jasper knew if he hurt my cousin, I'd kill him and bury his body under my rose garden. I made that clear to him the first and only time they had an argument and Alice called me to vent.

I reserved my right to tell them then how stupid their little fight had been until after they'd made up, like we all knew they would, and I'm glad that I did. Now, they were getting married and Alice could work out her issues with her husband in much more fun, creative, mutually beneficial ways.

Walking down the aisle with Jasper's friend was not exactly my plan or my first choice. In fact, given the choice, Edward Masen would still be in Chicago annoying his own family into a coma.

Edward was pretentious and self-absorbed. There was no other way to put it. All he'd done for the past few days was talk about his credentials and his Ivy league upbringing. My mother said he had "neveau riche stank" on him and she seriously doubted that he had a "pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of", much less the mansion he described. Still, Edward seemed miffed when I shut him down a few nights back, so I did my best to be cordial. Just enough to get through this day for Alice, of course.

Soon enough, but not before Edward nearly tripped down the aisle, I stood next Charlotte and her boyfriend Peter at the cocktail hour scanning the crowded room for suitable company. There was no worse feeling than being the third wheel at a wedding reception. Plus, it looked like all of LA was in attendance, so I'd say my chances were good. I chatted up a few girls on Jasper's side of the family, but nothing really caught my attention. There wasn't anything outstanding about any of them, to say the least.

I'm not particularly attracted to any one physical characteristic or personality trait, except that there needed to in fact be a distinct personality to speak of. One could not be a sheep and expect to hold my attention very long. I grow bored of unoriginal thought processes quickly.

My recent romantic dalliance with Tanya proved that well enough. We had fun together, don't get me wrong. She was my partner, so we were used spending time together. It just wasn't until we started dating that I realized our once comfortable silence, built through years of comraderie and trust, had turned both stifling and awkward. The only time we seemed to be of one accord was when we were putting out fires or having the kind of sex that felt good but burned my conscience like hate.

We were using each other and we both knew it. It wasn't some great love story. It just was, until it wasn't anymore. We did better as friends and coworkers. A romantic relationship just wouldn't work out. That's why I was glad she was seeing someone new. But, that didn't solve my own problems.

Deciding it was probably best to call it a night, I finished my tenth glass of champagne and looked around for Alice to wish her bon voyage. It wasn't hard to find her, sitting on Jasper's lap playing in his overgrown mane.

"Alice, I'm heading out. Is there anything else you need before I go," I asked trying to be accommodating while scheduling my uber driver to pick me up.

"Rosieee! Don't go. The party just started." Ahhh. Drunk Alice. Jasper was going to have so much fun with that. I can just imagine trying to get a hungover Alice on a plane tomorrow.

"Ally, it's one in the morning. The party started six hours ago," I said gently while working my way towards the door.

"Fine, " Alice whined sporting a pout. As soon as the waterworks started, I informed her husband that now was as good a time as any to take her upstairs, so that she could begin to sleep it off.

Just then my phone chimed, with an Uber notification alerting me to my driver's arrival. Outside, a carpool of rideshares were being packed into by the other wedding attendees that had a few too many. I was just about to slide into the wrong car, when Peter flagged me down.

"Rosalie! This is you. Call Char when you get home, so that we know you made it safely," he said holding the door open. I hugged him and slid into the back seat. I was ready to close my eyes and enjoy the slow lull of the low music playing in the background while the sounds of the city came alive. But, all of that came to a screeching halt when I looked around the illuminated cab of the stormy grey sedan and came face to face with her.

The mystery woman from the Willows fire.


	6. Chapter Five

**Hello lovelies! I hope everyone had a good weekend. I spent mine further fleshing out this story. I have my ending in mind now even though that's very far off in the horizon. Did you do anything interesting? Last chapter was...yeah, don't kill me. I hope you enjoy this one and I'll be back...maybe tomorrow. We'll see but by Wednesday night definitely. As always, happy reading!**

 **-Soulful Songbird**

Chapter Five: Fight or Flight

BPOV

I knew who she was. Of course, I did, but judging by the look on her face she recognized me too. I expected she would forget me. I expected her sliding into my back seat to be more of a quiet cab ride, and less of an awkward fumbling to control my steering wheel.

At least she had the grace to close her mouth, rather than continue to look at me like a fish out of water. Sliding my finger across the screen, I pulled off from my parking spot and began my trip. I wanted to confront her. I wanted to peel her skin off and see how she liked it. I wanted to scream. But, all I could do is drive. I felt my temper flare, and my face getting hot. Unjustifiably or not, I was pissed.

"Can you roll up the windows, I'm freezing," Rosalie slurred and I wanted to tell her drunk ass to get the hell out of my car. But, I needed the money to keep my finances in order right now. Instead, I just let the windows up.

I tried to keep my thoughts to myself. I truly did. The only issue with that is I've never really known how to filter or keep my opinions to myself. By in large, it's the main reason my father and I have been in the midst of an ongoing feud for the last four years. That's why I shouldn't have been surprised when my thoughts went on a little stroll out of my mouth. Turning off the audio to my radio, I strummed my fingers on the steering wheel as I waited for the streetlight to turn green and then it happened.

"So, I don't know why you're still in my car. I should have put you out on the curb ten minutes ago. I genuinely want nothing to do with you. So, I'm not going to give you a sob story. I'm not going to complain. I just have one favor to ask. Stay the hell away from me," I announced trying my hardest not to be a bitch and failing because who gives a damn?

"I know you don't really know me. So, I'll let that slide. But let me explain something to you, I am not the kind of woman that's just going to beg you not to be pissed at me. I don't know you, so I can say with certainty I don't care if you stay mad. If the only reason you're pissed off is 'cause I got in your car, I'm wayyy too drunk to give even a crescent of a fuck so drive me home or I'll report you," Rosalie said rolling her eyes. Knowing what I did about her, I knew she threatened me out of discomfort and hurt. I knew I struck a chord. I also didn't give a damn.

"Go ahead and report me Rosalie! I could care less about this part-time piece of shit job. But, how about the next time you rush in to save someone, you take a second to consider if they WANT to be saved!"

"Oh my God woman, how twisted can you be? You expect me to apologize for saving your life? You gotta be fuckin' kidding me? You would have died. You know that, right?! I really AM too drunk for this. Let me out. I'll walk to rest of the way," she fired back, her voice rising steadily with each word.

"Gladly." I said pulling over. My blood was boiling, and I didn't want her anywhere near me anymore. Immediately, pride got in the way of logic and I refunded her cost. I wanted nothing from her, not even the $20.55 cost of this ride.

She got out, huffing and angry, slamming the door. I didn't even care. I was riding a high. There was more I could say. So many things came to mind. My frustration with her was so strong I could probably reinforce a bridge with it. But, just having said the little that I did felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I knew I was harsh. Maybe I was even a little unfair and childish, but it felt good. Honestly, I was pretty pleased with myself. It wasn't until I saw her walking in my rearview that I regretted it.

I couldn't leave her. Well, I could but my conscience was screaming at me. Despite my feelings, I knew I couldn't just abandon her. Anything could happen. My parents weren't great at everything but at least they drilled that in to me growing up. I pulled over yet again and waited for her. When she was a foot away, I got out and opened the door to the back seat.

"Get in," I said, maybe a little briskly but oh well. It is what it is.

"Hell no!" she yelled. Like she literally yelled at me. What in the hell?

"Rosalie, just get in the car. I'm not leaving you out here by yourself," I demanded. I was starting to get more than a little frustrated with her stubbornness.

"So, don't leave, but I am," Rosalie retorted, the crease in her forehead becoming prominent as she further scrunched her face.

"Look, I feel how I feel. I make no apologies for that. But, I also know you need to make it home safely. So, get in. I'll take you home. I'll be quiet. I won't even charge you or anything,"

"Fine," she gave in, even though I knew it had more to do with hurt feet than putting my mind at ease.

I drove her home in quiet. No music, no words sounded off through the cabin of the car. The remainder of the ride took all of ten minutes, but it seemed to be an hour. Still, she made it home, pissed but safely.

I slept better that night than I had in months.


	7. Chapter Six

**Hello lovelies! Did you enjoy the last chapter? Don't worry. Our girls haven't seen the last of each other. Sorry Bella was so dramatic. But, people in real life are never predictable. I really wanted to give both points of view for that very reason. Perspective can change everything. Even when you disagree with someone's actions, its easier to understand their reaction when you know their perspective. As always, happy reading!**

Chapter Six: Rest and Relaxation

RPOV

The nerve of that woman. That Isabelle or whatever the hell her name was had the audacity to be mad at me for doing my job. Suppose I let her die, was she then going to come and haunt me for not saving her?

Don't get me wrong, I know she must be going through hell. Her whole life went up in smoke and physically she is having to deal with very real reminders of that night. But, that didn't give her a right to chastise me for saving her life.

 _Even though she technically didn't ask to be saved_.

Oh no! No! No. I had been over this in my head all week long, to the point that I was now defending her illogical behavior. Nothing can excuse that. Nothing. I was not going to allow anyone, including myself, to say otherwise. That's mostly because: a) I'm right and she's wrong and b) On the off chance that it's the opposite, how can I keep doing a job, keep loving a job, if all it's doing is dooming people to a life they hate? So, the only thing I could do was look forward and stand firm in my conviction.

 _I DID do the right thing._

She still made her nightly appearances in my dreams as she had since the fire. The hold she had on my unconscious mind, I had yet to understand. More than once, I found myself waking in the middle of the night to take sleeping pills, then going in to work the next day more exhausted than the day before.

It was reckless. It was dangerous and there was nothing I could do about it. What would I tell a doctor? I keep having dreams about a woman who I'm sure would kill me with a letter opener given the chance?! That's ridiculous. I'd find myself in the psych ward before I can blink. Still, the more I saw her in my dreams, trapped inside that burning room, I wondered. I wondered about who she had been before life effectively made her more pile than woman. I wondered about who she was now, and all the little things that brought her some form of happiness in the world.

My mind seemed to want validation that I had, indeed, saved her life rather than condemned it in all the ways she thought I had. I needed reassurance, but it surely never came. It was more than that though. I wanted to know her even though it screamed self-destruction. I had no doubt in my mind that she could spell my ending.

Yet, something about her made me fearless. Self-preservation instincts be damned, I was intrigued. I was intrigued by the feisty nature of her. How she fought back, toe to toe with me, even when her fighting grounds were rocky. How did she do that? It was my understanding, that women usually only had three reactions to me. They were either jealous, wanted to sleep with me, or held the certifiably insane belief that I wanted to sleep with their boyfriends and husbands. Even at the firehouse, I had to prove myself because of those assumptions, where one would have thought my commitment and dedication to the job would be enough.

For a while, the only beacon of hope I had was Tanya. I remember going back to my apartment at night, worrying myself into an early grave over my choice of career. More than once, I contemplated leaving my job and going off to college. I knew my parents wouldn't protest. They wanted me safe. But, I couldn't see myself doing anything other than being a firefighter. Tanya got that, she got me. She understood me and didn't feel threatened. That's why we made a good team. I could trust her to have my back without worrying about whether her jealousy would get me killed.

In time, I earned the respect of the rest my colleagues. But, outside of family, I had never met another woman who, somehow, didn't see my looks at all. Well, maybe she did and just didn't give a damn which made her even more interesting to me. Inexplicably, I was drawn to her. It was like a moth to a flame. I knew I should stay away, but that didn't stop my mind from wondering.

More than once, I contemplated finding her. But, I let go of that idea immediately. I was nothing if not selfish and I like my heart right where it is, thank you very much. I can admit I was also just a tiny bit scared. But, who wouldn't be if a madwoman was the first one in years to make something feel real to them? Who wouldn't worry if the fixation of their dreams was knowingly hell bent on making them suffer, yet they're still never able to stop the dreams from coming?

After what was a long night of restlessness, the fifth this week, I picked up the phone from my bedside table. It was time for a much-needed vacation. My Cap wouldn't be too happy about it, but oh well. My thought processes as of late were worrisome, to say the least. The best way I could think of fixing that was to put as much space as humanly possible between myself and the object of my mind's fixation.

After the call was made to my captain, I got out of bed and began to pack. I didn't have any idea where I was going until I was already half packed. Once my mind was made, I relaxed enough to book the first flight out this evening. If I couldn't get over this woman, the best thing I could do for myself was to get under a new one. With that thought in mind, I placed another call.

"Go for Bree," the voice said.

"How's New York treating you, Shortstack, want some company?" I said, heading out my front door.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Hello lovelies! I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. This next one is perhaps a little heavy for some people. Do know that I considered a lot when writing it. But, I feel that in order to do this story justice, I must continue with my original course of action. Hopefully, it provides deeper insight. Corr5092, this is it**.

 **P.S. Its been confirmed that I will get to finish Love Worn Postcard, an Alice/Bella fic and The Passionate Thing, a Rose/Bella sequel. The Proper Thing, the original was removed by the author as I edit. All three stories will be reposted here upon completion of editing to current chapters with full credit to those authors. I'll keep you posted on details.** **Without further delay, let's get in to it. Happy reading!**

Chapter Seven: Not Easily Broken

BPOV

"So, are we going to talk, or have you permanently lost your voice," my brother said from his spot leaned against my bedroom door.

Emmett had never been known for being tactful or subtle for that matter. After ignoring his calls since the fire, it was only a matter of time before he showed up here demanding answers. But, what did I even tell him? I live with our parents and they've barely gotten two words out of me.

"Come on Bella, you're looking right at me," he said rubbing his hand across his face in exasperation, "I know you hear me."

And I did. But again, what should I say? No matter what response I gave, it was only going to be met with pity, sorrow, or someone telling me how I should be feeling. As brave, or selfish depending on which of my parents is speaking, as people seem to believe I am, I am also incredibly scared.

Shamefully, I can admit that walking to my car gives me an overwhelming sense of panic as I consider all the ways it could blow up. I sleep on the couch most nights. The purpose being twofold, one being so I'm always close to the ground with plenty of exits around. The other being so I don't wake up trapped in yet another bedroom. Even now, at my best I wasn't sleeping nearly enough. I don't cook because I fear grease fires. The sound and smell of certain things makes me feel like I'm right back in that room. Everything else just disappears and I'm there again. It's a constant loop of madness.

That's why I wanted to die. I didn't want to live in fear of something else, another fire, killing me next time. I knew the statistics. I had looked them up. Every source I found said it was virtually impossible. Logically, it was extremely unlikely for it to happen the same way twice, let alone at all. But, logic had nothing to with this.

It certainly didn't put my mind at ease. Every day that I woke up with these thoughts, I wished Rosalie would have left me. The events of the last few months gave me no hope for the future. It was like I had died in that fire, but somehow my body was still here with a face I didn't recognize and a life now that looked and felt nothing like mine. I was trapped inside myself. I wished I could tell them this. I wished they could understand. But, the worst thing to ever befall any of them was a broken leg and childbirth. So, as much as they claimed to understand, they never really would.

"Look, Bella, I've been your best friend your whole life. You're my baby sister, ya know. It sorta comes with the title that I've always had your back. But that's hard to do when you won't let me. I'm not asking you to be okay right now. I'm asking you to help me, help you. You're always the responsible one. If you need me to be that for you now, I will," Emmett said in what was quite possibly his most mature speech to date.

Quite frankly, I was touched that my brother, who lived hours away, cared enough to even come see me. They say he came once when I was in the hospital but the thought of seeing me that way was too much for him to handle and he never made it upstairs. I believed it. Emmett never really had been comfortable seeing me cry, let alone be in actual pain.

When I was in first grade, Thomas Fletcher pushed me off the monkey bars and I ended up with a busted knee. I cried so hard, the teacher had no choice but to call my mom to come get me. I refused to leave without Emmett, causing an even bigger tantrum. By the weeks end, Thomas had gained a black eye and busted lip and Emmett was suspended. He happily served his punishment and nobody else bothered me. But, any time I got hurt, he was who I ran to.

"Emmett," I said pulling him out of what I'm sure was an obsessive inner monologue "Can you stay here with me, I just don't want to be alone."

He smiled at me, happy that I finally said something to anyone in this family. For the next few hours, we joked about the lack of quality fake wrestling anymore and he told me all about his day to day as a trainer. He even went through a few of my physical therapy exercises with me. It felt weird to see his smooth skin next to mine or to feel him touch my hands when helped me up off the floor. I tried not to dwell on it though. I knew if anybody was still going to be themselves around me, it would be him. Emmett just wasn't used to treating me like some porcelain doll and he never would be. Surprisingly, for once that was just what I needed most.

It wasn't until my mom made it home, hours later, and rushed to my room at the sound of my voice that I realized I was still talking and had even smiled once or twice. Later, I returned to my usual sleeping spot to find Emmett with his pillow and blanket, laying on the longer couch opposite me texting away to some random girl. I made a mental note to ask about it later, as I made the couch into my own little makeshift bed. Neither of us acknowledged the fact that we had perfectly usable one just down the hall, which I appreciated tremendously. Instead, we spent the night watching old _All That_ and _Ren and Stimpy_ episodes. I fell asleep in the early morning hours feeling safe for the first time since the fire. I knew if anyone would protect me, it would be my big brother.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Hello lovelies! I'm writing this from my phone, so please pardon any mistakes. I've had a pretty rough time over the last few weeks. I plan to put out 3 more chapters over the next seven days. I'll update with any corrections once I'm home again. Speaking of home, does anyone live near an IHOP? I'm craving pancakes and bacon. Ship me some, please?! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Happy reading!**

Chapter Eight: When in Rome

RPOV

Grease. I need grease. Unfortunately, all I had available was some expired tofu and whatever else it was Bree ate.

 _Do vegans eat kale? Is kale still a thing?_

I closed the door to the near empty refrigerator with my hip and pushed down my sunglasses from their perch on the top of my head. I chuckled inwardly, glad that the 90s soccer mom phase of fashion was long gone. I decided it was best for all parties involved to pretend that particular look never existed to begin with. It was right up there with the Rachel in the list of terrible fashion choices we all regretted. Speaking of Rachel, it's too bad we didn't have a Central Perk around here. I would kill for a well-made cup of coffee right now.

It didn't take me long to realize it would be more feasible to just get carryout. I was blowing my diet anyway with all the drinking I'd done over the last five days. I might as well do it in earnest. Besides, nothing says adulting quite like the ever-present feeling of needing a drink to deal with life. Children had far better things to do, like draw box shaped cars and houses with trapezoid shaped roofs.

I was going to go back and rescue my shoes from the guest room but decided against it. I didn't want to risk last night's encounter waking up. The only thing I truly didn't want was to rehash all the ways in which alcohol leads to bad decisions. Truthfully, alcohol was the only thing that would even account for the woman in my bed. Again, I was starting to believe that I should invest in some quality crayons and look into this childhood thing.

The woman from last night was of no consequence to me. I didn't know her any more than to say her favorite drink was something fruity with grenadine syrup in it which told me she was probably in her early twenties. Her name was something unusual that began with an M. I didn't care to remember. She wasn't completely unfortunate looking. If I was about ten times less intelligent and she wasn't completely straight, and hung up on her ex-boyfriend, she would probably be perfect for me. However, she was, in fact, entirely straight and entirely too vapid.

After sliding my feet into a pair of heels I left laying around days ago, I made my way outside and around the corner to the Golden China restaurant. Egg rolls sounded way more appetizing than they probably should have. Still, I ordered three and a ton of pork fried rice for good measure. I was just about to break my egg roll in half, when a text came through on my phone.

 _Where are you?_

 _Chinese. Golden China._

 _See ya in ten._

I didn't bother responding, preferring to just ignore the fact that my food was chilling by the second and wait for Bree. Soon enough, she showed up looking like she too needed a hangover cure.

"What in the hell did I drink?" she moaned as she pressed her cheek against the cool table.

"Whatever it was, it had to be unleaded. I do believe I've died."

"So not to increase the headache or anything like that, but your little exploit slipped into the shower."

"Ugh".

I'm not going to lie, the thought of the girl who I shared a bed with made me want to be physically sick. She wasn't a terrible person or anything, I just had really reached a new low, a straight girl. Sexuality is fluid, I know that. But, last night hers was not. She was a pillow princess to the max, and last night I didn't complain. It didn't matter to me if she was straight, since was fucking my frustrations out. Personally, I had no desire to be touched, or anything else, by her so it worked out. Still, I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn't be anybody's experimental evening. I wasn't trying to deal with any confusion or misplaced feelings. Now, I think it safe to say that ship sailed.

"Don't worry, I'm sure she'll be gone soon," she said " What I'm unsure about is why the paradigm of pureness and virtue that is Rosalie Hale, is here, sleeping her way through the female population of Brooklyn," Bree retorted. I _did_ note the teasing she threw in there, but I decided to ignore it.

That was the nature of our friendship and why we had been friends for so long. Talking shit is our favorite pastime. We argue like a married couple and we dislike the same people, which is basically the best foundation for any friendship.

So, instead, I recounted my recent plight to my most trusted friend. I figured that it couldn't hurt to get it off my chest. If for nothing else, then the hope that maybe it would keep my drunk mind away from straight girls so my sober self didn't have to deal with them. For her part, she made to sure ooh, aah, and aww at all the right times. Once I was finished the story of the soap opera that had become my life, I felt lighter and she sat there silently for, what felt like, forever before laughter erupted out of her as she held her now full belly.

"So, you think she's hot?" Bree asked, disbelief evident in her tone.

I suppose it was fair for her to be a tad bit shocked. I hadn't exactly been single over the years, but the budding of possible domestic bliss hadn't blossomed for me either. I spent more time in between situationships or contemplating ending another one, than anything else. My last and only serious relationship unfolded when I was still in my early twenties and it wasn't for lack of trying. Essential components were missing and, I now know, that would have only led to me settling for less than what I need.

"Wow! So, all you got from that is that she's attractive?", I said more than a little perturbed with her for laughing at my expense.

"No that's not all I got from it, but it is pretty much the whole point isn't it?" she inquired, "You think she's cute and you ran here because she pissed you off and now you want to sulk about the pretty girl who doesn't want you".

"That's not true," I mumbled while pushing my fork around in my rice container.

"Yes, it is and I'm only going to say this and then I'll leave it alone. She's been through a lot and probably still has a long way to go. If you decide to find this woman, don't lose yourself pursuing her and don't hurt her. Nobody wins in either of those scenarios. Plus, I raised you better than that," she responded. I could practically hear her voice becoming garbled as she fought back a laugh.

Later that day, as I cleaned away any evidence of the previous night, I finally released a breath I didn't know I was holding. Now, all I needed was a plan to find her. Hopefully, I will have figured out getting her to listen to me by the time they find the cure to cancer or I'm on my death bed…whichever comes last. But, hey, what's the rush?


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: Arrested Development

BPOV

I probably should have gotten up by now. Logically, there was no reason for me to still be in the same spot I'd been in since noon when the evening was fast approaching. I had attempted to do something productive this morning. I showered and did laundry, but somewhere between a rerun of Criminal Minds and Grey's Anatomy I lost my will to do much as my body protested.

Parts of me that I never knew existed, now ached. I could feel the remnants of yesterday's physical therapy workout deep within every tendon of my body. The tension was nearly palpable. My arm muscles were so sore, it hurt to brush my teeth. Despite knowing it would be good for me in the long run, I had grown to hate James. As a person, I'm sure he was probably great. But, as my physical therapist, I was beginning to believe he took some sort of sick, sadistic pleasure from seeing me in pain. His only saving grace was that Emmett insisted he was the best in our area. Of course, I assumed he had no problem speaking so highly of James, since he lived so far away.

I guess it was a good thing I hurt so bad though. It really helped to take my mind off the boredom that had been settling in lately. Since Emmett left to go home, I didn't really have any one around to talk to besides our parents. Naturally, I'd had more than enough awkward dinners to last the rest of my life.

I didn't blame them. They were stuck in a weird position. Having me living here with them, must be surreal. I hadn't stayed here, before now, with any permanence since the week before I started college. Even on breaks, I was only home a few days and quickly escaped back to school and work. Before the fire, I lived in the same city and we barely saw each other. That was mostly due to Charlie, but still we lived very separate lives.

Most of my own friends lived on the opposite side of town. Yet, despite being so closely located, there was a hesitance present between us that hadn't been there before. Sure, they called every now and then, to check in. But whenever us hanging out got mentioned, they all make promises to catch up over coffee or dinner, but it never happened. I suppose it was partially my fault. I wasn't very welcoming or pleasant in the days immediately following the fire. I tried to make amends for that over the past few weeks, but to no avail. Maybe it was just our time to grow apart. I had already made my peace with that.

Deciding to liberate myself from the doldrums, I put on my sunscreen, shoes, and jacket before locking up the house and venturing out into the world.

The heat was sweltering. So much so that I thought about turning back on my walk to the car, just to grab some water. I quickly thought better of that plan when I acknowledged two very real facts. The first being that I didn't like the taste of tap water and we were out of bottled water. Secondly, if I went back into the cool oasis that was my parents' house, I would not emerge again until the temperature decided to be reasonable. By reasonable, I meant eighty-five with a strong breeze.

Deciding it was best to stick to the plan, I rode around for the better part of two hours after picking up an aloe water from the local bodega. Not to long after that, my stomach started to growl. I knew instantly what I wanted to eat.

 _Makenna's_

When I was a kid, Makenna's was my haven. My parents worked hard to provide for Emmett and I, but that meant we didn't have a lot of time to devote to making family memories. The few I do remember distinctly happened at Makenna's. On Saturday mornings, my mom and I would go there, and we'd talk about everything in my life. We'd talk about school, and the clubs I was in, but mostly, we talked about Rosalie.

I'd tell her all about what Rosalie had been up to all week and she'd ask questions about Rosalie and her family. As a kid, I remember thinking about how cool my mom was. I remember counting down the days until I could introduce Rosalie to my mom. I knew she would love her just like I did.

For that, Makenna's would always be special.

Of course, it didn't hurt that the food was amazing either. Pulling into a parking space in front of the all too familiar building, I took in the scenery. I wasn't surprised that the line was spilling over onto the sidewalk. Rush hour traffic probably kept this place busier than most in the area, but no one seemed to mind. The food was good enough to wait for.

Once I was inside, it wasn't hard to find a table since most folks seemed to be picking up orders. The looks directed my way, however, made me feel slightly embarrassed and anxious all at the same time. I began to wonder if people could see the fear on my face. I was just about to flee, when a tray flopped down on the table, shocking me out of my reverie.

"Hey. You look like you could use some company. Mind if I sit here?" a voice said, causing me to focus on it rather than the scene unfolding in my line of sight outside the plexiglass window of the restaurant.

"Uh…no, I guess it's cool. There are better tables though." I sputtered out.

To say I was flabbergasted, would be an understatement. Clearly, the universe was having fun pitching me one cosmic fuck after another. Anything else would classify as a statistical anomaly. It took me a moment to realize that she was pulling out the chair across from me and getting comfortable. Yay, this should be fun.

"Nah, it's okay I wanted to sit here, you look like you could use the company and you won't hurt me anyway. Oh my god! I'm so sorry. I'm Alice, by the way," she rambled, sticking out her tiny hand for me to shake as if she'd just made the world's most terrible blunder. I accepted the offered hand, regardless. It was almost comical how frazzled she was about me knowing her name, when I had already known more about her entire family than was strictly necessary.

"Hey Alice, I'm Bella. You and I will be great friends. I can already tell." I said introducing myself to the pixie like woman in front of me, who graced me with a yay and a smile.


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: Hero's Welcome

RPOV

How I let myself get talked into this, I have no idea. I didn't like coming to these things to begin with. They were all pomp and circumstance, full of well-to do types I generally wouldn't find myself in the same circles with. I mean I enjoyed being dolled up, perhaps more so than the next woman. But, I didn't like feeling as though I was being forced to be overly polished and pressed. I certainly didn't like feeling as though I am being forced to attend the stupid Mayor's Ball, either.

 _Well, I suppose it didn't count as a feeling considering I was told so, in no uncertain terms._

So here I sat, with my parents in tow, in a uniform that I'd worn far too many times before. It didn't matter to the city that I was uncomfortable with both being in attendance and the uniform I had to do it in. I was here to receive praises and a commendation from Mayor Davis. The whole thing was laughable, to receive a commendation for doing exactly what I'd been trained to. I hadn't even noticed I was the only one still rushing in to the building anyway.

Personally, I could think of better ways to occupy my time, like finding Isabella.

So far, that's as much as I knew. The uber app was good for that much information, at least. Outside of that, not much was known. I even tried revisiting the old building where the fire took place, with no luck. I knew it was a long shot that I'd find anyone or anything that would help, and I was right. All that was left of that building was rubble surrounding pieces of a frame. A nearby sign stated hopes of a rebuild and restoration effort by the city. But I knew, everything that mattered had already been lost.

There was no tangible way to recover the things destroyed in that fire. There was no way to give those people back a sense of safety and security in their homes. With a physical intruder, you can see justice done. You have closure. For something like this, there is no finality or ending. There's no one to blame. It's just one instance in a thousand, that for no rhyme or reason, other than the universe's twisted version grand design, had the ability to end or completely alter your life and the way you see the world forever.

For Isabella, there would probably be no going back to life before the fire. I doubted she could even reclaim that same normalcy again. Once you know different, it's impossible to unknow it. Still, I hoped for that, for her sake. I hoped she'd find peace with what happened. Just seeing what had once been, brought on a somber sense of melancholy. But, tonight was not about that.

Tonight, was about giving my family and friends a chance to understand what I risk my life for. Secretly, I was hoping it would make the reason for sacrifice clearer for them. My mom had been hounding me to leave since I came home haggard after my first shift. She didn't understand, and neither did my father. I was their baby, even when I was saving someone else's.

I had just finished a glass of champagne, when Tanya went up on to the stage.

" _Rosalie Hale has always been my model of what it means to be exceptional. At the academy, Rosalie showed incredible promise. I remember being so jealous then, now I'm glad to have her watching my back_ ," she said chuckling along with the crowd.

I didn't expect it when it came, but somehow the nervousness was right on time. People rarely complimented me for my work and honestly, I was struggling to accept everything Tanya had just said. She never told me any of that.

" _On March 18, 2018 Rosalie did not only what she had been trained to do, but what any one of us, who have done this job, would consider above and beyond the call of duty. Despite the call to evacuate, she rushed in to that fire not once, but three times, confident that she could save lives. It is because of Rosalie's heroism, that these four people are alive today_ ," she said taking a brief pause.

On cue, they rose from a table near the front of the room. For the first time, I looked to their faces. There was a teenaged boy, who appeared to have recovered just fine. It was when I caught a glimpse of the braces on his legs as he stood leaning into the woman next to him, that I remembered who they were. I remembered being pissed that their building wasn't accessible, for the sake of historical accuracy. I remember how he couldn't breathe in the stairwell and his mother tried to carry him, hysterical at the thought of leaving him behind. I remembered carrying him out, praying they'd save his life.

There was the sleeping college student who didn't want to leave her books behind. Smoke inhalation had made her body weak. I remember our pep talk. She cried about her exam scheduled for the next morning the whole way out, but I didn't mind.

Then there was her. Isabella.

To see her standing there, I could imagine her the way she was. Smart, vivacious, confident, she was the sort of woman who didn't know the meaning of the term 'playing hard to get', she simply was. Even now, especially now, those things held true. It didn't take long before her eyes met mine, and she smiled at me. I knew then, I was right where I needed to be.

 _Ladies and Gentlemen, Rosalie Hale._

My mother squeezed my hand, with tears running down her face as I stood to walk to the podium amidst applause. As I stood on the stage, I looked over to my parents, who looked every bit filled with pride and I smiled at the crowd as they clapped for me. Again, my eyes fell on her as I began my acceptance speech and she beamed at me.

As far as I was concerned, her smile was a hero's welcome all on its own.

An hour later, I'd been thanked and hugged within an inch of my life. My mother had long since retired for the evening, after her emotions got the best of her and she effectively became a water bag. After the fifth "I'm so proud of you honey" and glass of champagne, dad decided it was time to call it a night saying they'd see me tomorrow.

Now, that they were gone, my focus was on the woman I'd been staring at for the better part of an hour. I knew if I didn't say something now, I'd lose my mind trying to fix things between us. So, I got up to approach her and invite her to my table before my nerves took over completely.

"Hello, Miss Isabella?"

"Bella. Bella Swan, and we've got to stop meeting like this," she said laughing.

"Yeah we do. Not to seem forward or anything, but do you mind if I sit here a minute."

"Sure, Rosalie. I won't bite."

"Thank God! These shoes should be illegal. You would think at some point they'd understand that support is a good thing."

"They look more comfortable than the heels you wore last time we ran into each other. These complete the look."

" What look would that be? Drowned cat?" I replied. I'd been hot since I'd gotten dressed earlier in the evening and it was showing no signs of ending. I felt like I was melting in my formal service dress.

"I happen to think you look very nice," Bella said offhandedly as her eyes drank me in her voice lowering into a timbre I'd never heard before and her smile became the sexiest smirk I'd ever had the pleasure of bearing witness to.

Yep. She's going to be the death of me. I was sure of it.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Hello lovelies! As some of you know from Twitter and Tumblr, my family lost our matriarch recently and it's been a tailspin of emotions the last few months between that and my own personal things. I'm so sorry for the lag in writing and thanks for all the love so far. Ive really wanted to get chapters out, but I could barely make it through.

The last few days have been tough especially, now that we're addressing her estate and handling other final expenses. PLUS I'm also beginning to really register the "Oh my goodness, I'm going to be someone's mom" bit so that's been a thing too but I had to get this out to you all today.

I've been blown away by the reception I've gotten as well as all the condolences and kind words. I never expected one person to read this or follow it. I cherish it all, good, bad, or indifferent. I hope you all enjoy this one. Happy reading!

-SoulfulSongbi **rd**

Chapter 11: Temptation

"So, Rosalie Hale, local hero of the masses, how does it feel to be recognized by your community for your valiant efforts?"

A laugh erupted from my blonde counterpart, followed by an unexpected snort before her expression became stoic.

For the umpteenth time, I reminded myself of Rosalie's seriousness. I had learned over the course of our lives, that she could be exuberant, protective, and even affectionate but she did not give in to those feelings easily. Rather, she reserved her deepest feelings for those closest to her and held her fierce mask up to the world like a mirror.

I'm sure it served her well, given what I'd seen of her life and her chosen career. But, it frustrated me now just as it had when I fashioned myself in love with her. The only saving grace was I'd long since discovered that Rosalie's face hid what her eyes could not. If the amusement swimming there was any indication, I hadn't been too far off mark from where her own thoughts roamed free.

"I can't tell if you're joking, but on the off chance that you are, hardy har har. If not, then I'm going to be honest and say it feels like overkill just for doing my job."

"Perhaps so, but then who would we idolize?"

"There's a woman here named Tanya Denali, she adores swooning fans."

I knew the name and face well. Tanya Denali was the last woman I'd swoon over. She'd spent years sniffing behind Rosalie. It was down right sickening how desperate she acted. Honestly, I never understood why they hooked up...if you could even call it that.

"Who said anything about swooning?" I remarked, trying to keep the contempt out of my voice.

"Yes, who indeed, she said pursing her lips, "You're a hard woman to find, you know?"

"Are you thinking of stalking me now, Rosalie?"

"No, I planned to give you a piece of my mind, actually. Quid pro quo."

"Whatever for? I can't imagine that you'd have much to complain about."

"Come to think of it, I don't really remember. I'm sorry, have we met?"

"No, I can't say we have been formally introduced, now that you mention it. I'm Isabella Swan, but you can call me Bella."

"Rosalie Hale, I insist you call me Rose."

A rose she most definitely was. Even if one went the obvious route, and waxed poetic tales of her natural beauty, it would be without reproach. But, I found a much more rare treasure than the pale curelean of her eyes or the tiny Cupid's bow of her lips.

Her veracity was enthralling. The sheer reckless boldness found in the determined set of that same beautiful face, held my senses captive. The way her brow rose as I matched her wit, made me feel things akin to childish giddiness. This woman was temptation and I was intrigued.

"Would you care to dance, Miss Swan. Surely with a name like Swan, you must be graceful."

"I make due."

She rose from her seat, holding out her hand. The rational part of me knew I was leading myself down the rabbit hole but I was powerless to stop myself. Her icy gaze both beckoning and vulnerable, led me to take her hand.

Her shoes left abandoned, I heard her release a sigh as we reached the parkay dance floor, the coolness of it soothing her sore feet. In the background, sounds of the band could be heard as more people began to leave. The hour was getting late and I suspect most wanted to make it back home to their families.

Yet, here we were. I and Rosalie. Rosalie and me. Drifting around the floor, in our own slow rhythm while the world moved on all around us. For but a second, I wondered if anything I had ever dreamt of her imbued me with this sense of euphoria but nothing in my recollection approached this.

Being here, in this moment I once considered impossible, I relished the feeling of my mind quieting and the ever present anxiety melting away for the first time in nearly a year. The weight of the world seemed to have left us both, as we drifted, burden free and unsure of the feeling but unwilling to part.

No words were spoken during our dance and years later, I would probably look back on this moment, just as I would later tonight, and realize we never even looked into each other's eyes. For once we began our dance, we became weightless, floating on a breeze with nothing to anchor us but each other. Still, somehow the end came as these things always do.

The walk back to my table was all a blur, but I remember staring into her eyes once more that evening.Just as we arrived back at my table, she grabbed her shoes and asked to borrow my phone. She peered up at me from my phone only once, before handing it back.

"In case you ever figure out where we know each other from...or anything else. Good night, Isabella Swan," she said as her phone number stared back at me.


End file.
